


Cut Away the Wrong

by aurumdalseni (kyo_chan)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I'm just here for all the soft, Kuron is Shiro (Voltron)'s Clone, Kuronk, M/M, also I dub the ship, also going to tag, because conspiracy theories, believe what you like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 13:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12110178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/aurumdalseni
Summary: Shiro returns to the team after being captured again. But everything feels wrong and he doesn't know how to make it right. Hunk doesn't like to see him hurting, and he does the best thing he can for Shiro to make it better.





	Cut Away the Wrong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/gifts).



> Commission for the great BT, and I know she loves to see Hunk and Shiro interact, so here is some soft Hunk/Shiro.

Hunk steps hesitantly into Shiro's room, and he tries not to jump when the door shuts behind him. Instead, he's focused on his leader, shrouded in the shadows of a room at the lowest light setting, staring at his reflection as if he doesn't know who he sees in the glass. Hunk takes a deep breath and moves further into the room, finding a safe place to put the tray of food down. He can barely see, and he wonders how Shiro can even focus on anything. He swallows back a lump of sympathy, wondering if that's the whole reason why he hasn't turned the lights up.

"Dinner is served," he tries for an icebreaker, quiet. As if Shiro would jump like a wounded animal.

He's dismayed to be right.

Shiro looks over his shoulder, around a curtain-fall of dark hair, and the smile he manages is weak at best. "Thanks, Hunk." He turns back to the mirror, to study himself some more.

Hunk stands somewhere in the middle of the room with idle hands and the tension thick enough to choke them both. Shiro is giving him an out, he can recognize the clues, and Hunk could very easily take it and go. But that doesn't feel right in his gut. He's learned to always trust his gut. He always thinks about one of Lance's favorite movies when he's following his instincts.  _ I feel it in my belly _ .

"Is there anything else you need?" he finally offers before the silence can stretch itself too thinly to salvage.

Shiro opens his mouth, but his brow knots up before any words come out, and his shoulders sink. Hunk is patient; he waits until Shiro's ready. Finally, "I...I don't remember how this goes."

At first, Hunk doesn't understand, but as if he'd tear it out by the roots, Shiro's hand pushes into his hair, and he twists it in his fist. He leans in a little closer when the pull gives him a better view of his face, screwing up his features. "It's just. Wrong."

"Oh! You mean your haircut, dude? Yeah, I gotcha." Hunk's easy smile lights up his face much more effectively than the lights illuminate the room. "You've had a lot going on. Probably not the thing your brain wants to focus on right now. It knows you should be resting and not worrying."

Shiro doesn't let go of his hair, holding it back and looking back at Hunk again. "But it's wrong," he repeats. "This isn't how it's supposed to be." There's an edge of insistence to his voice that rides the razor's edge of panic.

This is more important than just a simple haircut. It's woven deeply into how he sees himself. God, when Hunk thinks back to the first time they rescued him from the Garrison tent, and even before that -- pictures of the golden boy chosen for Kerberos -- Shiro's been through so many changes. No  _ wonder _ he's near panic. After all he's been through, to keep changing and cycling through restarts -- soldier, pilot, Champion, Paladin,  _ prisoner _ , leader -- it's heartbreaking.

Hunk knows what he has to do.

"I think I remember how it goes." He steps over and crouches down next to Shiro. "Gimme somethin' to cut your hair with, and I'll make it better, okay? And maybe some fresh clothes too, yeah? Surely there's gotta be somethin' in these old closets that'll be nice and comfortable. Have you tried the pajamas yet? Oh man, they're  _ so  _ soft."

Shiro doesn't talk much; he can't. Hunk isn't without sympathy for the way the tension keeps his shoulders drown and his expression somber. It's not what he's used to seeing from Shiro, but that just means that he's hurting. Maybe he's been hurting even longer than any of them have been aware. Hunk wants to protect him, wants to see him smile again and mean it. So he babbles on, catching Shiro up on the mundane events of the castle ship since the last battle with Zarkon. He doesn't mention the Lions or Keith becoming leader. He doesn't talk about the struggles of the coalition in its baby stages, or Allura stepping onto the battlefield with them as a Paladin. No, Hunk talks about the shenanigans of the mice, Pidge's newest schematics for pod upgrades. Coran had accidentally blown one of the turbines, causing a power outage for a few hours. The Paladins had made a blanket fort, and wished on stars. Hunk confessed that he'd wished Shiro had been with them, and he promised they would do it again.

All the while, strands of black and white fell around Shiro like feathers in freefall. Burdens no longer weighing him like a heavy crown, dusted quickly off his shoulders so they couldn't settle there. Hunk wasn't good at this, but he'd cut Lance's hair before, so he knows he isn't a major threat with sharp things. In fact, his hands can be pretty steady and true when he's focused on something he cares deeply about.

At last, he finishes, leaning back to survey his work. "You'll have to go at it with a razor or something for the undercut, but..." He squints at Shiro's face and groans. "Ah, quiznak, I messed up the front. Dang it. I'm sorry, Shiro."

"N-no, Hunk," Shiro says quickly. "This-- you're right. This is better. You know what they say about a haircuts. Two weeks'll fix it up." He peers at his reflection and takes a deep breath. Definitely better, if the way his expression eases up into the beginnings of a smile tells Hunk anything. He still feels bad that he couldn't get it right, but Shiro reaches out to touch his arm. "Thank you, Hunk."

"Don't mention it." If Shiro could trust him with a blade, maybe the tight hug he bestows on him will be just as welcome. Shiro sags into his arms. Yes, perfect. "You look great. And when you're ready, you can make your grand appearance on the bridge. Everyone's gonna be so happy."

For a moment, Hunk sees doubt and confusion on Shiro's face, but it's washed away with a real smile. "Yeah. I think I'm going to be too."

 


End file.
